I Became the First Prince: Legend of Sword's Song-Novel

Nobles, Princes, Kings, and Empires (5)

The Leonberger family summoned the nobles of the kingdom to them. Under normal circumstances, it would have taken longer to gather them all to the capital. These were not normal circumstances.

The nobles in the capital and the outlying cities acted under orders from the imperial ambassador, the Marquis of Montpellier. So they hasted to the palace, fearing what would happen if they went against the imperial decree.

In just two days, half of the kingdom’s nobles had arrived at the palace. They were taken directly to the banqueting hall.

“I heard that the lords of the north have been praised for our victory against the orcs. I don’t think we’re going to have a celebration banquet this time round.”

“Well, isn’t this atmosphere too tense for that, anyway?”

The nobles in the hall were making quite the ruckus about the presence of the northern lords, who had created so much tumult in the capital.

“Who would’ve known that that little man, Adrian, would’ve gone all the way there.”

“Yes, even our many gifts couldn’t win them over in the end. I mean, we know that the Balahards have squadrons of hard men, but why march them south?”

“Oh, by the way, His Highness the First Prince was awful, I lost a guardian! I wasn’t really sad, but still…”

“There came a story to my court, saying that the northern parts are defiant after having to host His Highness the First Prince and his many balls. If that is true, it would be quite a shame.”

The first prince, who returned to the capital after his exile-like departure, was a very interesting topic of conversation to most nobles.

Although most of the tales that had reached their ears were sad tales, the nobles’ expressions did not show any remarkable emotions.

“I heard that you have already paid for it.”

“It is said that he humiliated decent people with that horrible… object that he had brought from the north. It seems that his nature, his spirit, has not changed at all, even after the war.”

“Perhaps he wasn’t even properly part of the war, having gone through no trouble at all.”

From the viewpoint of the gathered aristocrats, the dirty-headed first prince and his pet nobles of the north had spread many false stories of their struggles and were rightly mocked and insulted from every corner of the banqueting hall.

“Tsu, it’s all so frivolous, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know how to express my condolences and remembrance to knights who have dedicated themselves to the kingdom, so I guess I am not in good form today, and so shall relent from showing my more vulgar side.”

Only a scant few nobles, the Marquis of Bielefeld among them, mourned the deceased people of the north and honored the noble deaths of the defenders. The Marquis, guessing that the current meeting was somehow related to the imperial ambassador, could only hope that the day would not be a shameful day for the kingdom.

As if having called a tiger by merely thinking of it, the imperial ambassador entered the banqueting hall.

“Eternal friend of the kingdom, the Marquis of Montpellier, whose authority has been legitimately recognized by His Majesty the Emperor of the Burgundy Empire; Ambassador of the Empire, Crien de Burgundy, graces us with his presence!”

It was truly unusual that the ambassador, who normally showed off his prestige by entering just before or even after the king, had appeared so early.

“Hey, is something really going to happen?”

The Marquis of Bielefeld observed the ambassador with a stern face. He noted that the ambassador was moving faster than usual – as if he was being haunted or chased by something.

“Ambassador, you have come?”

A few of the less aware nobles approached and abased themselves before the imperial ambassador.

“From now, you shall only speak to me if I have spoken to you first,” Montpellier said as he put a damper on the nobles’ eagerness to please him. The eyes of the aristocrats stretched wide as they fearfully retreated from the ambassador, not understanding what it was that they had done wrong. They returned to their places, thinking that they had offered the wrong seeds and that the ambassador was grumpy due to a bad planting season.

“Is it possible that someone even higher up than Montpellier was sent from the empire?” one noble, who had been carefully observing things, said to the Marquis of Bielefeld. It was a sensible assumption, for the Marquis of Montpellier looked like a conscripted peasant who had faced off against a master of battle.

“I am anxious, I am anxious,” the Marquis of Bielefeld muttered as he continued to observe the ambassador as the members of the royal family appeared one after the other.

“The legitimate scions of His Majesty King Lionel Leonberger of the Leonberg Kingdom, the second son of the Leonberger family, His Highness the Second Prince Maximilian Leonberger, and the third son of the Leonberger family, His Highness the Third Prince Gillian Leonberger, grace us with their presence!”

Both of the princes entered and stood before the central dais in the banqueting hall. Bielefeld felt a strange feeling when he looked at the princes. The third prince, who was always surrounded by feckless nobles as he boasted of his prestige, was the same as ever. The second prince was not, for a hard face had replaced his usual soft smile.

Somehow, the second prince knew something about the events that were about to unfold.

The Marquis of Bielefeld moved closer and tried to approach the second prince, but the great door of the banqueting hall opened, and the royal courtier cried aloud once more.

“The legitimate scion of His Majesty King Lionel Leonberger of the Leonberg Kingdom, and the most precious first son…”

Through the open door, the first prince appeared, followed by knights and nobles of the north.

“Haaaah!” came the collective sigh of the nobles as they saw the first prince. The boy that had existed but a year ago was nowhere to be seen. The face that swiveled above his muscular breast was angular, and his body could easily be compared to that of a sturdy knight.

Above all else, the nobles’ attention was drawn to the scars that ran across the prince’s entire body.

The exposed flesh of his hands and neck were full of nasty scratches, while snake-like scars writhed across his chin and forehead.

“Ah, the wounds!”

“Hey, I can’t hear what’s happening from the rear.”

While the nobles gossiped, the first prince studied the banqueting hall. The nobles who met his gaze caught their breaths and almost staggered back. The bodies of those who had retreated were full of goosebumps.

The prince laughed as he looked upon those nobles.

“Aren’t you going to kneel before me?”

The tone of the prince’s laughter sounded friendly, but the nobles could feel the chill race down their spines as if they had been thrust through the ice of a frozen river in the dead of winter.

A few nobles jerked awake and fell to the floor, their knees striking it, and their heads bowing.

The prince descended the stairs, each of his footsteps sounding like those of a great beast that had lumbered into their midst.

The nobles held their breath and pricked their ears as if they were small animals hiding in the bushes as they waited for the predator to pass. And when the first prince finally came to a halt, the nobles almost vomited as they gulped in air after holding their breath for so long.

They did not dare lift their heads, and they greeted the king in this prostrate manner.

“His Majesty King Lionel Leonberger, who is the rightful but humble ruler of the Leonberg Kingdom, who is more honorable and wise than anyone else, approaches, and graces us with his presence!”

The king appeared through the open door.

“Well!?” he demanded as he paused for a moment, noticing that the atmosphere in the banqueting hall was strangely subdued.

He turned his head and saw his eldest son standing alone among all the nobles, who had all bowed to their knees.

The king’s face became hard, and the first prince grinned.

Still, King Lionel ignored the gaze of his eldest son and moved on. He didn’t want to be face-to-face with the annoying boy, but the fact that the nobles had bowed deeper to their King than usual pleased him greatly. When he discovered that even the imperial ambassador had bowed his head in respect to him, the king felt positively delighted.

Certainly, it was a delusion, a grand illusion that King Lionel had created within his mind.

The nobles and the ambassador were not worshiping the king who had walked lightly like a deer into their midst, but the prince who crouched like a wild beast behind him.

In that entire room, only the king did not know the truth.

* * *

The very moment that I saw the indolent faces of those bloody nobles, my repressed anger poured into my heart.

But, I remained patient, for it was not yet the time to burst out in anger.

No, now was the time to bring comfort to them, to leash and cage them like one would leash and cage ten thousand yapping dogs.

I was patient with my anger, and may the king reveal himself!

“His Majesty King Lionel Leonberger, who is the rightful but humble ruler of the Leonberg Kingdom, who is more honorable and wiser than anyone else, approaches, and graces us with his presence!”

Finally, the king appeared through those wide doors of the hall.

His face hardened when he saw me, yet he quickly righted himself and started walking among the nobles.

He walked so forcefully, his every step being placed oh-so-regally.

He walked, pretending to possess a dignity that did not exist.

He passed by nobles like the clown that he was.

He finally plopped down on his throne upon the lofty dais.

“Everyone, you can lift your heads now!” the king said, forcing dignity into his voice.

The nobles hurriedly awoke from their daze. I observed the scene as I turned my head.

The once-secret knights, the royal swords that had been forged with such great care, yet had been broken before ever being used, were trembling. The emotions that emerged on their faces were complex enough that I found them difficult to read.

It seemed as if they welcomed their reunion with their king, yet they seemed to resent the king who had not recognized them greatly. Or perhaps, they were relieved by their good fortune that the king could, in fact, not recognize their faces.

“If you want it, you can be given a chance to stand independently in the future.”

“We don’t want it.”

I had spoken silently, and they had refused.

“If so, just watch.”

They cast questioning glances at me – as if asking what the hell they should be watching.

I quietly studied the hall. There was a blind king upon the dais, an irresponsible and incompetent monarch who had neglected his country. A blind king who had let his nobles fall and who had trapped himself in a dream.

Underneath this king were wicked men who clung to the rotting branches of the giant tree, their tongues flicking like tongues of serpents. Lame-footed loyalists, who had done their best to support the slanting mass of the tree, were passively watching the situation, their faces filled with caution and concern.

The mistletoes of the north, one crushed by the harsh winds of winter, had grown stronger and were all looking at me.

Finally, there was a dog who had once barked for the empire, yet had now been tamed by me, even if he wished that his leash would snap.

All these actors would soon be part of my ridiculous little skit, while three-hundred-and-twenty-three broken knights, a sword that the kingdom had failed to forge, would look on. They would look upon the bare rotten face of the kingdom in all its putrescent vileness.

That was what I wanted to show them. They would have to find the answer on their own, but I would show them the way.

I would watch all from where I stood. And I shall judge.

“The reason that all the lords are gathered here today is in accordance with the ‘Imperial Ambassadorial Emergency Summons of Authority’; and such a call is in full accordance with the treaty between the Burgundy Empire and the Leonberg Kingdom,” came the first statement from a clown upon the throne, from the blind king.

“Since the majority of the nobles of the kingdom have gathered, there will be no problems if we start now,” the fat dog barked after the words of the blind king.

“So, the reason I have invited so many prosperous nobles here today is because I want to discuss the future of the kingdom.”

The dog from a foreign country was barking about the kingdom’s future, and not one person disputed his right to do so.

Now was my time – the moment had arrived to end the helpless inertia of these nobles and their king.

“Before all that, we should talk about the war in the north that took place some time ago.”

My imperial dog looked at me and stepped back. I took the center stage.

“Bring it,” I said, and Arwen and some knights placed a large chest in front of me.

I opened the chest violently, its top banging to the floor.

I pulled out the Warlord’s head, its tongue lolling, and threw it.

It flew right among the high lords, landing in front of the king’s dais.

‘Tukudukuduk.’

The head, quite larger than the torso of an adult man, rolled upon the floor and came to a rest.

“Aaah, huuuh?”

“Oh, oh, hah?”

The nobles screamed in terror, and the banqueting hall quickly became a chaotic mess.

“What are you doing!” shouted the king as he lost his composure, rebuking me, his face almost blue with anger.

I gave him no heed, took the Warlord’s arm from the chest, and casually thrust it over my shoulder.

The nobleman who got punched by this flying orcish limb passed out without a scream or a whimper.

“Aaaah!”

“What’s happening! What’s that?”

“You’re out of your mind! He’s crazy! He can’t do this without being crazy!”

Amid the screams, groans, yells, and cries of the weak and feckless nobles, the angry king shouted.

“Since we have won, we must show the proof of our triumph, the remains of the enemy leader, in front our king!”

I announced this to the hall – my arms spread wide.

“Am I right, Your Majesty?”